Children of a lesser God
by amhSana
Summary: The Night's King has arrived and it is up to the King in the north,Jon Snow to stop him. However, it requires him to make a terrible sacrifice as secrets both new and old are revealed. Based on the series and prophecies/visions in the books. *SPOILERS*Ch. 2 is up and gives the origin story of the hero/villain *SPOILERS* This is a humble attempt at a grand unified theory for GOT
1. Chapter 1

**The Old Kings and the New**

Jon Snow had begun to hate solitude. Whenever he was alone he began to reminiscence about his life. He was contemplating family, duty, honour and other follies which had almost led his house to ruin. His own father did not tell him anything about the night's watch nor did he try to stop him. He had betrayed Ygritte, lied to her and saved the wall only to be killed by his own men. But the one he felt most hurt was the battle of Winterfell, like a fool he had allowed himself to be outwitted by Ramsay Bolton and almost forfeited his life and the lives of the people who had trusted and followed him. He was well aware that though he led the forces, the battle was won because of Sansa, Baelish, Davos and Wun Wun and not because of him. Yet for all those setbacks and mistakes, here he stood, the king in the north so maybe these things were not so useless after all. "Snow!" cried Tormund from behind, "Someone's here to see you."

The night's watch brother was shivering and pale even when wrapped in blankets and sipping on warm broth. "They are almost at the wall, the white walkers, they will fall upon us soon." "How large a force do they have?" asked Ser Davos. The man's eyes were filled with terror. "The largest anyone has ever seen. Thousands of undead not to mention undead giants, mammoths and direwolves. The sight of them alone is enough to defeat any army even before the battle has begun." The man paused as an eerie sense of doom descended over the gathered nobles. "The Lord Commander sent me to appeal to you. We are short of men, weapons and supplies. But from what I have seen, the entire might of the seven kingdoms may not be enough." The man seemed like he had lost all will to leave, like he had stared into the abyss and he knew that there is no way to survive, let alone win the coming war. "Rest brother", said Jon " House Stark will do all in its power to save the realm."

The small council meeting was in uproar. "They ruined our family! How can you ask them for help? Besides, Cersei is mad. You let the Lannister forces in, they are just as likely to seize Winterfell." Sansa was distraught at Jon's suggestion to ask for aid from the queen. Ser Davos was in deep contemplation, "The Tyrells and House Martell have rebelled against the iron throne as well, not to mention the tales I keep hearing about a Targaryean princess with dragons and an unstoppable army on her way here. It is a divided realm my liege, chances of unity are slim to nonexistent." The only person who was happy at the turn of events was Petyr Baelish as the wheels began to whir in his mind. "The Knights of the Vale will lend their support, but it would take a strong commander to make sure they, the northerners and the wildlings do not turn on each other." He saw an opportunity to send Jon away from Winterfell and was determined to take advantage of it.

Jon contemplated his bleak options. "The wall is more than just ice." he said "Powerful magic is built into it to keep the white walkers at bay. That is the only place we have a chance of putting up a fight." "I will lead the wildings, the knights of the vale and some of the northerners to the wall and we will fortify castle black and hold it till help arrives." "What about Winterfell?" asked Ser Davos . "A small contigent of northerners and Knights of the vale will be garrisoned in Winterfell. Lady Sansa will henceforth be the lady of Winterfell." Sansa was at a loss for words. "But Jon…" she started to speak before Jon cut her off. "You and I both know sister, winterfell is ours because of you. If anyone can negotiate with the other houses, it is you. Davos and Littlefinger will stay back with you. Get help from the rest of the realm. Make them see that unless we come together, all of us are doomed". "I will. Promise me you will come back safely brother." Sansa's voice began to quiver. Jon held her tight "I promise" he said softly as he prepared to go back to the wall once again.

Dolorous Ed wore the look of a man who had no idea what to do with the power bestowed upon him, not unlike Jon himself Jon thought as his forces reached castle Black. "Well, that's the second king in recent times the Night's watch had the pleasure of hosting" remarked Ed. This was followed by an awkward silence as both dint want to bring up the fate that befell the previous one. "Where have the White walkers reached?" asked the former lord commander to the current one. "Don't you know?" asked Ed incredulously "They are at the wall!"

"They just stand there, waiting, threatening and watching us wet our pants. They are just outside the reach of our catapults so most of the men are up there, trying to build ones with better range." Jon was relieved on hearing this. So the old tales were true. The white walkers were held back by the magic in the wall. Slowly a plan was forming in his mind, "Ask your men to.." Jon didn't even complete his sentence when he heard an ear shattering sound and fell to the ground. It felt like a thousand horns blowing and sucking the soul out of him. "Get a move on!" he heard and felt himself being hauled up. It was Tormund Giantsbane and Ghost. The duo were dragging Jon and running. Jon regained a little composure and turned around to look. His heart almost stopped beating in shock as vertical cracks started forming in the wall and then with an almighty rumble, it came crashing down.

Jon tried to regain his composure as he surveyed the carnage. A large portion of the wall was completely collapsed taking with almost the entire Night's watch with it. The ancient order now buried under a small mountain of snow. His leg was hurting and was barely able to assessed his injury. No bones were broken but he had a huge gash on his thigh. He would have bled out but ironically, the ice had stopped it. He surveyed the remaining forces. Hardly a few hundreds had survived and many among them injured. His heart sank as he made out a shape, for lying mangled, bleeding and deatd was Ghost. His faithful companion had dragged him clear while sacrificing his own life. All Jon wanted to do was hug his companion and mourn but fate had given him no time to grieve for he had men to save. "Double back! Get as many men as you can and load them onto the wagons and horses." The men started to obey his commands when Tormund suddenly froze in fear. "Look" he said as the undead army crossed the wall.

Jon knew and so did his men that they would not survive to see another day. The undead army was massive. Legions of men as far as the eye can see not to mention giants and mammoths. He mulled his options and gave the orders. "Those who can ride, grab the horses and make for winterfell. The rest form a guard and follow me." "Snow! That is suicide!" cried Tormund. "Either some of us die or all of us do. Go now, tell Sansa she is queen now" ordered Jon. Reluctantly, Tormund left him to gather up the horses. It might have seemed heroic but the truth was the moment he saw Ghost's dying carcass, Jon felt that his time had come and this time for good.

"Half of you double back into the castle, reign arrows on them. Rush out when we fall." Jon was aware that he used when, not if but this strategy would give the others more time to escape. The undead army was advancing slowly when all of a sudden it stopped. Jon's men looked at him waiting for the order to charge but he was holding out for the appropriate time. The men were watching with bated breath as the night's king and his white walker generals rode to the head of the column. Strangely, instead of charging and crushing the opposing forces he clambered down from his horse. He came a little forward and drove his sword into the snow. He just stood there for several moments staring coldly at Jon Snow when a soldier gave out a gasp. "My liege" said the man "He is challenging you to single combat!"

Forward strode the White Wolf. He could barely stand on his injured leg. Jon knew that the odds were stacked against him yet he was happy since the more time he could occupy the Night's king, the better the chances of his men escaping. Jon gave out a loud battle cry as he fell upon his nemesis. The combatants parried and slashed as the pain in Jon's leg receded to a dull throb. Jon was huffing and panting, slashing with all his might. In contrast the Night's king dint seem to put in any effort at all. He blocked every attack of Jon seemingly reading Jon's mind even before he attacked. His reflexes were otherworldly, yet his style was strangely familiar. He was just defending without going on the attack yet Jon was thoroughly outclassed. Finally, as if almost out of boredom, the Night's king blocked an attack, ducked and swept Jon's feet right of the ground. Jon lay sprawled on the ground as the Night's king put a foot on his chest. The fiend raised his crystal sword to strike yet held the same position before striking, as if willing Jon to do something. Jon took advantage of the delay, grabbed Longclaw and thrust it into the Night king's heart. Oddly, the night king seemed happy at this. He looked at Jon and actually smiled before bursting into a thousand shards.

Jon got up and sat on the snow clutching his leg. He saw that the white walker generals wore a look of stunned disbelief. He turned around and saw that his men wore the same expression. Slowly one or two men started cheering and soon everyone joined in, " We won!" cried one, "The king in the North!" cried another. "The White wolf! Savior of the realm!" "The prince that was promised!" cried someone else. Relief and joy washed over Jon and his men for even if their enemy was strong, without their king, the living had a fair chance of winning.

"Aargh!" cried Jon and collapsed as freezing cold pain shot through him. He felt like a thousand daggers made of ice were stabbing him repeatedly. The men stopped their cheering as a white light seemed to engulf their king. The watched in disbelief as Jon's hair turned white and his eyes began to turn blue. The black armour he wore turned light and shone like a glittering diamond. He looked beautiful, he looked immortal and he looked terrifying. Jon just sat there, completely dumbfounded as one of the white walkers came up to him and placed a throne made of ice on his head.

Then all of them knelt, the white walkers, the wights, the giants and all the other fantastic beasts. Jon noticed that there were not kneeling in front of him but had turned to their sides. A path was cleared in the middle. Flanked by two long dead giants riding mammoths was a creature bigger than a stallion but looked like a wolf and had a rider atop. Jon's eyes widened as he recognized the rider on top. The rider was white, almost translucent and had a blue aura around him. Even though the creature was surely not of this world, it was unmistakable who it was. "Bran!" he cried in utter shock and disbelief.

"Hello cousin." said Bran in a voice both soothing and spine tingling. "Yes. I was Brandon Stark of Winterfell once. I was also the three eyed raven not long ago but only now did I find out who I am and was since ages." Bran's voice felt like somebody was whispering inside Jon's mind, "The Great Other."


	2. Chapter 2

**Forgotten stories and Forsaken souls**

Meera Reed was exhausted. Each step she took she felt she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. All she wanted was to lie down and let the cold and snow throw a blanket over her forever. Her companion Bran was lying on the sled, feeling utterly helpless and angry at himself. "They are almost here." He said ruefully. They had continued their journey south to the wall after uncle Benjen had left them, telling them that he cannot travel further. The magic of the wall was powerful indeed. "I see it! cried Meera in joy as she pointed in the distance. Bran's heart leapt as they finally reached the gate in the wall to which he was guiding her. However, there was no time to rejoice as Bran felt the white walkers gaining on them. "Hurry!" cried Bran as Meera's pace quickened due to her excitement. Bran scoured the horizon and saw the white walker army slowly gaining on them. "Too slowly," the thought suddenly crossed his mind. He was confused by these events when his eye fell upon his mark. The realization of things to come was sudden and sank in his heart like a dagger. "Meera! Stop!" he called out bitterly, "Benjen betrayed us!"

"What do you mean?" asked Meera still dragging him. "Stay with me Bran, we are almost there." "You have to leave me here and cross it on your own Meera. I can't come with you" said Bran realizing slowly that their time together had come to an end. "What? Why?" Meera was incredulous. "His mark is on me Meera," said Bran pointing out to the slowly approaching Night king and his army. "That is why he is not attacking us, the moment we cross the wall, the magic which bound him will no longer work. That is why Benjen turned up to put us on the right way. Otherwise we would have been lost and long dead in the snow by now. We crossing the wall is exactly what he wants."

Meera was horrified. "You know I cannot leave you Bran. Without you there is no hope for us. Let us go, we will find a way." Bran sighed, there was no way Meera could fully grasp the things he had seen, the horrors that would befall the living if the Night's King invaded. "Do not despair Meera" consoled Bran. "It is more important that you live. Find the Night's watch. Tell them what I told you, tell them about Jon, about Jaime, about how their petty fights will doom them all if they don't unite." Bran held her hand, "Goodbye my friend." He said," I wish you good fortune in the wars to come."

"Forgive me Bran." said Meera softly as he kissed her friend's forehead and bade him one final farewell. Unfortunately, this development was not lost on the Night's King. Meera had barely taken a few steps when with blast of icy cold; the Night's king was upon them. He strode menacingly towards the helpless and crippled Bran angry and vengeful at having his plans thwarted. Bran was beyond fear now. He sat there calmly, knowing he had done his part in the war and all that was left was his final martyrdom.

"Meera! No!" Bran felt powerless as his friend fell upon the Night king. Meera had made the right decision, for he would have killed her anyway so had made her mind to put up one final fight. The Night's king seemed almost amused. He blocked a couple of attacks and with one seemingly nonchalant blow, knocked Meera's spear of her hand and sent her sprawling to the ground. Meera felt no fear, only an all consuming rage as she charged at him again. The Night's king dropped his sword to the grand and grabbed her neck, lifting her in the air before she could make a single move. "No!" screamed a distraught Bran as he watched the fiend rip Meera's head right of her shoulders. He tossed her body aside and strode menacingly towards Bran. Fear, anger, grief and a plethora of emotions were raging inside Bran. He steeled himself and with one final look as a human at the icy world around him, warged into the Night's King.

Bran felt like a thousand daggers were being plunged into him while an inferno raged inside his head. The pain was so intense that only later he realized that he was plummeting in darkness into a bottomless pit. He felt like he was burning, he felt like he was freezing, he felt vile, he felt inhuman. Shadowy beasts started attacking him, ripping pieces of his flesh as he struggled with them. He landed with a thud on the snow and suddenly the pain was gone.

He got to his feet and saw two men in a fierce battle. One was the Night's King, looking as vile as he always did. Behind him stood the undead army, watching their commander, ready to unleash chaos and destruction when given the word. The other was a bit shorter and trying to hold him off. The human was huffing and panting, trying to protect a woman, kneeling in the snow and cradling a baby in her arms but from the looks of it, he seemed doomed to fail. Recognition dawned on Bran as he remembered images of past kings he had seen in the crypts of Winterfell for fighting desperately, trying to save woman and child was none other than Bran the Builder.

The Night's king struck a heavy blow as Bran the builder's shield shattered. He was about to kill him when the girl left the child in the snow and flung herself between the two fighters. "Stop!" cried Bran as the Night's king drove his blade into the girl's heart. Bran didn't know whether he caused it or was it due to the trace of humanity left in the fiend but the Night King's icy blue eyes turned human again as he caught the woman and held her in his arms. He looked at the woman and then at Brandon. His voice carried the pain of a thousand heartbreaks as he looked at Brandon. "What have I done brother?" he cried in grief. For cradling in his arms, the woman who had given him a son, the one whom he had loved before fate turned him into a monster was Ander Stark, brother of Brandon.

Both the Brandons, of the past and of the present watched as the Night's king held his dying wife in his arms. "Strike me down now brother, when there is some of me still left, before the darkness consumes me again" he pleaded. Teary eyed, Brandon Stark reached for his sword for he knew there was no choice. "Don't do it" said Bran, in a voice which felt more like a command. Brandon looked around searching from where the voice came from. Ander had no such doubts, "Who are you? Where did you come from?" he asked looking directly at Bran. Bran steeled himself as now it was crystal clear what he had to do "I am a voice in your head, the one that will guide you to save humanity. You die now, the undead army will have no leader and will be free to roam the earth, killing and reanimating every man, woman and child until there are none left. You have to lead them back." Bran had their attention now, his role in the war was becoming clearer. "Redeem yourself, lead them back and rest. So that this threat never arises again" The brothers looked at each other and without a word, understood what to do.

"Raise him well brother, may he redeem my name." said Ander, too afraid to touch his son, lest he taint him too. "Do not fear for him brother. I shall raise him as my own." said Brandon. "Go" whispered Bran in the builder's head, "He will not be him much longer." "I wish you good fortune brother, in the wars to come" said the Night's King as he watched Brandon of house Stark hurry away, holding in his arms his son and the future lord of Winterfell

The Night's king tried to kneel before his wife's grave but couldn't reach it. Every time he got close, he seemed to be pushed back. Maybe the beast was repelled by the trace of humanity which he had buried along with his wife. He was distraught but at the same time he also had an idea. He knelt and buried his hands in the ground, he screamed channeling the powers of his army as one by one all the undead in his army fell, becoming lifeless again. And in front of him, from the very ground of the grave of his beloved, grew a giant wall of ice. "Goodbye Nysa Nysa" he said as he turned around to go back and sleep forever in the lands of always winter . He would have rested there for eternity, if someone hadn't called out to him again.

Legends will be born on this day. Men will tell tales about Bran the builder, how he single handedly built the wall. The will say he built it with giants and mammoths, with beings both worldly and mystical. Legends will also speak of Azhor Ahai, the bringer of light, who plunged his blade into the heart of his beloved and stopped the long winter. If only they knew.

Jon gasped for air. He felt like a man who was drowning but was unaware of it and only when he was pulled out of the water did he feel the effects. He looked around and saw he was still at the collapsed wall and Bran was still looking at him in mild amusement. He took a moment to grasp the visions that Bran had shown him. "It was you!" shouted Jon at his half brother, "You woke him up! Why Bran?" he asked. Things made no sense to him. Bran was responsible for defeating the Night's king and building the wall, yet here he stood, pulling down the wall and crowning a new king. "What can I say cousin" replied Bran with an almost rueful smile. "I was crippled and unconscious. It was not only the three eyed raven who heeded my call, a Stark also responded to the cry of his progeny."

"But why me?" said an anguished Jon. He still did not understand why Bran had turned him into the Night's King. "What a vile being you are. Why did you consign your own brother to such a fate?" Bran looked at Jon in a manner best described as condescending. "You know nothing Jon Snow" he said softly as Jon's head filled with visions again.

Jon saw Eddard holding a baby in his arms and instantly knew that it was none other than Jon himself. He knelt in front of a dying woman. Jon recognized the woman as he had seen her statue in the crypts of winterfell. "His name is Jaherys" said Lyanna Stark weakly. "Forgive me Ned, for though I resisted, I fell in love with the man who kidnapped me. He is a symbol of that love." Ned felt a deep and bitter pain at the events that had taken place. Robert had killed Rhaegar, the very man Lyanna loved to avenge Lyanna who now lay dying. The whole war seemed pointless, tragic and completely avoidable, not unlike every war man has every fought. "If Robert finds out, he will have him killed. Revenge has consumed him and he will not listen to reason. Keep him safe Ned." Lyanna's soul seemed slipping away. It seemed like she was holding on to life just to see her brother and keep her son safe. "Promise me Ned" she said weakly as she breathed her last.

Tears started falling down Jon's cheeks. They froze in between forming tiny icicles which sparkled like diamonds. Jon felt both unbound joy at knowing his mother and unspeakable pain at losing her all over again. His thoughts were also of Eddard, his stoic and noble uncle, who had to lie to his friend, his wife and even Jon himself to keep Jon alive. He wept softly as every bit of resentment towards his uncle, his angst at his own birth were washed away with his tears.

"Do you see it now Jon?" Bran's voice and tone was completely changed now. It was soft, soothing and comforting, like he was helping Jon to come to grips with all that he had seen now. "It had to be you. You are the blood of the kings of winter and also the blood of valyria and you were reborn without losing your soul. You are the song of ice and fire. If you are strong enough which I hope you are the darkness inside you will not consume you while you command the undead army." Jon looked at the being whom he had thought his brother once. His mind felt like it was melting as emotions like rage, hatred and jealousy began to surface in him. All of his thoughts and his sense of self were melting away, replaced by a single urge to destroy, to kill everyone until there was no one left. "Fight it Jon, I know you can" exhorted Bran. "The seeds of this moment have been laid a thousand years in the past. Fight it and arise as the Prince that was Promised."

The two beings stared at each other. The Night's King stood, hair as white as snow with blue eyes and pale skin. The Great Other sat atop his direwolf, translucent and almost sparkling like a diamond. Yet for all their powers, all their aura, deep down, under it all they were still Bran and Jon of Winterfell. "What now?" asked Jon. He felt power surging through his veins and every sinew of his body but willed his mind not to give into it completely. "To where it all began" said Bran softly "We have other Gods to meet."


End file.
